October 15, 2022
- Train Route: Santiago de Compestela to Madrid, Spain
- Distance: 600 kilometers (372 miles)
Even though my train to Madrid didn’t depart Santiago until 10:20 a.m., I was fully awake at half past six. I used some of the early morning to read quietly in my bunk among the snoring pilgrims, but then snuck out of the hostel for a quick walk around the Cathedral.
I hadn’t bothered to compete with the crowds filing the cathedral yesterday afternoon. I’d been inside the building before. I’d seen St. James purported resting place. I didn’t need wait in line to see it this time around.
Nonetheless, I found my way back there through the dark, wet streets this morning. There were fewer than a dozen other early birds at the church with me, and I wandered the cathedral in silence, admiring the ornate architecture.
This is how everyone should experience the building, in my opinion. Quiet. Serene. And much like the Camino itself.
TIME TO HIT THE ROAD
Afterward my sojourn to the cathedral to visit St. James’ remains, I grabbed my bags from the hostel and I slowly walked to the Santiago train station on the south side of the city. I may not have needed to walk all the way to the Atlantic Ocean on the Camino Finisterre this time around. But I did need to get out of town. Santiago had too much hustle and bustle around it.
When describing Santiago to others, I’ve always likened the city’s vibe to a Madri Gras type of feeling. Not the drunken debauchery of New Orleans during actual Mardi Gras. But just the feeling of being on sensory overload in a compact city. There’s just way too much going on to take it all in!
Too many crowds of people wandering the streets. Too many tourists trying to buy their trinkets to commemorate their Camino. Too many different languages being spoken at once. It just felt so overwhelming for my senses, and I needed to move on before the city woke up again.
When I arrived at the Santiago train station, it was more crowded this morning than I remembered from my trip four years ago. And I don’t recall needed to go through as much security either. But then again, I never even considered flying to Madrid instead of taking the train there. I just love watching the countryside whiz by, and I wanted to appeciate it from the ground.
The train to Madrid arrived 10 minutes early, which turned out to be a good thing because I needed to make my way down the platform to the very last car. Then I had to wait for at least five minutes outside the train’s door as an elderly couple bickered with each other about their luggage while blocking the entrance for the rest of us trying to board and get to our own seats.
I’d hoped the train would have Wi-Fi like TGV and French high speed trains had at the beginning of my journey to Hendaye, but no such luck. I’d have to entertain myself with the scenery and the e-book I downloaded to my iPad from my library
As the train pulled away from the platform, it was just another rainy, dreary day in northern Spain. But at least one I wouldn’t have to hike in. In a few short hours I’ll be in the center of the country where it’s supposed to be sunny and 80 degrees all weekend.
THE TRAIN RIDE
We entered Ourense just before 11 a.m. and the clouds were lifting just a bit as letting the sunshine creep in. Ourense sits down near the border with Portugal, a country I’ve never visited before.
As we at there waiting for passengers to board, I wondered to myself whether I should walk the Camino Portugués next. I don’t speak a single word of Portuguese. But other than the language barrier, how much harder could that 620-kilometer route be?
After Ourense, the train’s speed picked up significantly and signs at the front of the coach told me we were racing through the countryside at 237 kilometers per hour (or 153 mph)! As I stared out the large window, I mused about our own rail infrastructure in the US. I’d gladly ride a high speed train like this one to Seattle or San Francisco instead of flying…if only it existed!
About an hour before the train reached its destination in Madrid, the landscape opened up. Yellow and tan farm fields stretched for as far as my eyes could see. The clouds had long disappeared and given way to pale blue sky with the sun shining brightly on our way into our second stop in Zamora.
This was the Spain I remembered from my first Camino. The beautiful open grasslands that reminded me of central California. Is it any wonder the Spanish set up their missions there and put down roots in the “Golden State?”
MADRID MADNESS
The train eventually pulled into Madrid’s Charmartín station at 1:50 p.m. In a mere three and a half hours’ time I’d gone from Santiago de Compestela (and all things Camino-related) to Spain’s capital city, where nobody spent a minute thinking about pilgrimages or albergues.
The train station was bustling with activity, and it took me a few minutes to find my way down to the metro station below ground. I’d taken the metro around Madrid before, and I recalled it being super easy to naviagate, but I’ll admit had a bumpy start this afternoon.
Part of my problem was Charmartín at such a big station. The train station was above me at the street level, and I was underground at the metro level. But for the life of me, I couldn’t seem to figure out how to use the automatic machine to get my metro card.
Neither of the stations I wanted to travel to appeared on the kiosk’s touch screen, and the machine didn’t make sense to me. I couldn’t seem to figure it out. Only after 15 minutes of watching others and trying to ask an employee for assistance, did I realize I was at the wrong machine entirely!
I was standing in front of the Renfe light rail kiosks. The Metro tickets for the subway were sold at a completely different location jut a bit deeper in the Charmartín station (and the metro kiosks were blue, not red like the ones I’d been trying to use). No wonder I was having such difficulty!
With my rechargeable metro card finally in hand, it was time to find a late lunch before checking into my hotel. After just a few blocks, I found a lovely Italian restaurant that was open.
The snobby hostess seemed to scoff when I admitted I didn’t have a reservation and that I only wanted a table for one person on a Saturday afternoon. But she still found me a spot. Though I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she sat me next to the family with three rowdy children. I was in the big city now, and I was getting the tourist treatment.
I didn’t care about this snub in the least, because the food was absolutely delicious. My first course was a caprese salad that consisted an entire ball of mozzarella sitting on a bed of arugula. Small tomatoes were stuffed into the cheese like baby kangaroos in their mother’s pouch. And my second course – the vegetable lasagna – was even tastier!
Afterward, I walked nearly two miles through the city just to let my food settle and enjoy the warm sunshine on my face before heading to my hotel. Tomorrow I’d explore Madrid in more depthl, visiting some of the museums and wandering through the city.
For now I just wanted to lay in a comfy hotel bed, without anyone else around, and read my book with a bottle of Spanish wine!
